On Edge
by Ari Calden
Summary: AUish take on the whole Cain!Dean arc. Sam and Dean run into an old friend as they take on a case in New York. But of course not everything goes as planned as the boys work together to take on new and old foes. Protective!Dean & Hurt! Limp!Sam
1. Revelation

**Summary:** AUish take on the whole Cain!Dean arc. Sam and Dean run into an old friend as they take on a case in New York. But of course not everything goes as planned as the boys work together to take on new and old foes. Protective!Dean &amp; Hurt!Limp!Sam

* * *

let us go into the night

in the deserted field where our childhood lies

the whistle of shooting flames

and the echoes in our ears

a crackle of light, and the grass went ablaze

_run run run, little brother_

away from our woes and

into the blissful haze

**(a.c.)**

* * *

The impala rumbled it's familiar roar, as the asphalt flew beneath its tires.

Sam had nodded off, after Dean had flipped on a mid-eighties soft rock radio station.

The oldest Winchester half smiled, realizing some things never seemed to change. Didn't matter how old the kid got, it was still Sam.

Dean glanced over at Sam's inert form, dissatisfied with how sickly he looked. Guilt washed through him, distinct and strong.

Harsh purple rings hung beneath Sam's eyes. His skin was an ashy pale color, the bones of his face sticking out prominently.

He had lost too much weight though out the trials, and his normally rounded face was still painfully thin. I should have never let Gadreel in.

I should have never of let him possess Sam. How much did he have to suffer because of my actions? Dean thought to himself.

But Dean couldn't bring myself to let Sam die. It wasn't in him to let Sam die. I wouldn't bury my little brother. Dean thought hurt tearing through him.

Sam hardly spoke at all since expelling Gadreel, and Cas had to leave to check on some Angel business. The Angel factions were still tearing each other apart.

But Dean couldn't think about the angels, not now anyway. Cas would have to deal with that on his own.

For now Dean would take care of his little brother until he got his strength back. The kid was resilient, he would bounce back.

Once Sam was taken care of, the brothers would help Cas. But until then Dean needed a distraction. And a distraction meant a job.

Garth had called about a job in New York; an abandoned warehouse was being used to run a gambling ring. It's members would go in but never go out.

Normally, Dean wouldn't care about a bunch of drug deals gone bad. But the omens were there: lightening storms, temperature drops, the whole nine.

He knew he couldn't ignore it, he had to still save as many people as he could. He just had to.

The radio crackled slightly, the reception cutting in and out as Dean reached over switching the channel.

A woman high reedy voice buzzed through the impala, "A bizarre round of disappearances has devastated the city of Albany. Law enforcement are working diligently on this investigation,but have not come across any new leads. It has been suggested that the disappearances are the work of an illegal drug cartel. If any new information is provided by the public please contact Albany Law Enforcement. Among the missing people is Dana King,8, Laura Schleps,23, Dale Keaton 53,…" the woman prattled on, her voice grating on the eldest Winchester's ears.

Dean switched the radio off, with a sharp twist of his wrist, agitated by the growing list of disappearances.

If Dean held his speed, the brothers would be in Albany in few hours. He pressed the gas further willing the Impala to roar forward.

Dean glanced over to his little brother's hunched form. Sam had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his head bent in front of him.

The kid looked like he was freezing. Dean reached over, jacking the heat up, aiming the heaters toward Sam.

Sam relaxed within minutes, his head lulling against the back of the seat. Dean rounded the corner sharply, Sam snapping awake as the car swerved.

His face scrunched slightly, his green eyes glancing over at Dean. "Rise and Shine princess." Dean said, giving the youngest Winchester his best fake smile.

"Very funny." Sam said annoyed by Dean's expression. He rubbed his eyes, his head aching.

Even though Sam had been healed by Cas, he could still feel the after effects of Gadreel.

Sam hadn't been sleeping much. Every time he closed his eyes he would see Gadreel's actions beneath his lids.

He would watch his own hands kill an another angel without his permission, he would watch himself burn out Kevin.

Sam hated the idea of being tucked away in his own mind while an angel rode around in his skin.

Sam glanced out the window, watching the frigid rain pelt the windows. The silence grew between the both of them, as the Impala rumbled down the road.

Dean hummed one of the songs playing on the radio under his breath.

"Where are we?" Sam said, his voice thick with sleep. He glanced out the window sharply avoiding Dean's gaze.

"About an hour outside of Albany." Dean murmured, the streetlights flying past him, as he pressed the gas harder.

"So how'd you even find this job?" Sam said curtly, turning his head to look at his older brother.

"I told Garth to drop a dime if he heard of any cases in the area." Dean said, noticing Sam's tone.

It bothered Dean more than he was willing to admit. Not that he would ever tell Sam that.

"And he called. Turns out New York is our thing." Dean filled Sam in on the case, explaining the disappearances, and how the demons came into play.

Sam had nodded, hardly looking at Dean as he spoke. His cold rigid glare was too much for Dean. Sam's attitude hadn't changed over the past few weeks.

Sam had been cold, and businesslike during all the other jobs they'd worked.

Dean couldn't stand it. Dean pulled the Impala over sharply to the side of the road, the tires spitting mud as the car slowed.

Dean put the car in park, shutting the car off.

"What the hell is your problem?" Dean said, a hard edge to his voice as he looked at his brother. Anger flared in Sam at Dean's tone.

"What's my problem?" Sam half scoffed. "I think we both know the answer to that." he said his tone cutting.

The rain outside was loud as it streamed down on the car.

"We gotta talk about the whole Gadreel thing, Sam. You can't just ignore this for the rest of your life." Dean said irritation seeping into his voice.

"Yeah well I can try." Sam said sarcastically. Sam didn't want to hear it anymore.

He reached over wrenching the Impala door open, stepping out into the freezing rain.

Probably wasn't the smartest move on his part, considering the rain was coming down sideways, but if Dean wanted to talk it would be on his terms.

The door swung open on the other side of the Impala, as Dean stepped into the pouring rain.

"You're a real pain in the ass you know that?" Dean said, shaking his head. Anger seethed through Sam at Dean's words.

A sharp pain shot through him, his head pounding furiously.

"You're pissed at me, and I get it. And I know I deserve it." Dean said the rain soaking his clothes.

"But I did, what I did, for you. You gotta know that man." Dean sad, half imploring with his younger brother.

"Dean I'm not talking about this anymo-" Sam said, his voice cutting off. He gasped, clutching the side of his head with his free hand.

"Sammy?" Dean said in confusion, the anger replaced by sheer anxiety.

He went over to the other side of the Impala, his legs throwing him forward without realizing it.

He crouched down by Sam one hand on his back and the other on his chest to steady him.

"I'm fine" Sam huffed impatiently, though his eyes retained a sort of pain. His pushed Dean's hands away from him, leaning on the car for support.

Sam swayed dangerously on his feet, his face paling to an ashy white. Sam keeled forward, clutching his head, gasping.

"Woah Sam! Sam?" Dean said reaching out to catch his brother before Sam's head could collide with the pavement.

Dean took Sam's arm slinging it over his shoulder. Sam groaned, not objecting to his older brother's help.

Sam's forehead was furrowed in pain, his green eyes blinking away the rain.

"C'mon, in you go." Dean said, reaching over to wrench the Impala door open with his free hand.

He helped Sam onto his seat, clicking Sam's seatbelt in after him.

Sam's face was scrunched into a grimace, the dark rings beneath his lids more pronounced than before.

Dean had to get Sam somewhere safe where he could rest, and get cleaned up.

The closest motel had to be at least five miles up the still needed to talk about all of this. It would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now Sam needed him.

_**TBC**_


	2. Heartache

**AN:** Hi everyone! Sorry this took so long. I just got a job and I'm just getting over the flu so bear with me. Here's the second chapter; I hope you all enjoy it! Reviews tend to expedite the writing process so keep 'em coming ;)

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_" 'What's a soulmate?' Well, it's like a best friend but more. It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you a better person. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It's the one person who knew you, and accepted you; believed in you before anyone else did, or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, they'll always love you. Nothing can ever change that."_

* * *

The tires of the impala squealed as she made her way back onto the highway.

Dean's gaze flitted over to Sam anxiously, watching as Sam's grimace deepened.

Sam clutched his head between both hands, half curling over himself on the seat.

Water dripped off of Sam's face, running down both cheeks and onto his lap.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Dean knew everything there was to know about Sam.

Enough to know when his kid was hurting.

He had to help him. Somehow. Ultimately, Dean didn't want to take Sam to a hospital.

He didn't want to see all the sympathetic looks he'd get from the staff, or be pushed around by the doctors there. The nurses would poke and prod at Dean and try to make him leave saying "_they needed to run some tests_."

They could fuck off, if they thought that he would _ever_ leave Sam. They didn't know how to take care of his little brother.

Not like Dean could. He would take care of Sam, just like he always did.

Sam's head lulled over the side of the seat, his long legs sprawled out beneath him. His breathing was too harsh, too labored, for Dean's liking.

Sam's hair was plastered to his face, the skin on his cheeks pinched and red.

"Dean" Sam said, sounding suddenly much younger. Sam panted, his eyes retaining a sort of pain that shot straight through Dean.

A twinge of worry curled through Dean.

It didn't matter if Sam was three or thirty, he was still Dean's little brother. The brother that had Dean raised from a baby.

And Dean would still take care of the kid, _his_ kid, no matter what.

"Hey, _Hey_." Dean said, trying to hold Sam's gaze.

Sam's green eyes fluttered weakly trying to find his brother as he battled with his mind.

"What's Wrong? You hurt?" Dean urged, placing a hand on Sam's chest.

Sam blinked at Dean, his eyes too wide and too glassy. He gasped, sucking in a ragged breath through his teeth.

Sam's virescent green eyes unfocused as if he was seeing something beneath his open eyes.

"_Fuck_." Dean muttered under his breath, as Sam's eyes fluttered open once more.

Meanwhile, Sam's head warred with the fragments of thoughts, memories, and pieces of conversation that had belonged to Gadreel.

Each piece of Gadreel colliding with his own mind.

Countless murders at the hand of Gadreel, plagued him, torturing his every waking thought.

Sam had thought they would go away, even disappear altogether. But they hadn't.

Murders that Gadreel had committed, with Sam's hands. Words spoken by the angel, but with Sam's voice.

The vivid images had attacked his every waking moment, as they were now.

He hadn't told Dean because they had been on the outs, and he thought it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Dean noticed Sam's rigid posture, his emotions raging within him. Sam's eyes were far away, as if remembering another lifetime.

Sam grimaced, pain flitting over his hollow features.

"Sam? Sam. Stay with me, now." Dean said, trying to get through to his little brother.

"_Sammy_." Dean said sharply, vying for Sam's attention.

He had to snap out of it, whatever the hell _it_ was.

"You look like your going to pass out." Dean said, shaking Sam slightly by the collar of his jacket.

Sam blinked blearily, his eyes focusing on Dean.

Dean exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding.

Anxiety mixed with a fresh wave of guilt came over Dean at the sight of Sam.

All of this was his fault. All the shit that Sam had to go through because Dean wouldn't let Sam die.

But it wasn't in Dean to give up on Sam. To let him die.

No, never Sam.

_There ain't no me if there ain't no you._

The words rang through Dean's head, clear as a bell.

But no truer words had ever been spoken by the eldest Winchester.

Because a world without Sam wasn't one worth living. At least not for Dean.

Dean jammed his foot on the pedal at the thought, urging the car to hurdle forward.

The Impala jolted forward in response, the engine roaring in Dean's ears. The windshield wipers swept against the windows as the rain pelted the car.

The Impala's familiar roar rumbled beneath the brothers, but for once did not comfort Dean as it usually did.

"I can fix this Sammy. Don't worry, we'll get you fixed up." Dean murmured, knowing he could keep his promise.

He would keep him promise. Especially to Sam.

An obnoxiously lit motel sign flickered in the distance reading,"Fletcher Motel".

The VACANCY light was half broken, the "CY" falling at a slant.

Dean had never been so fucking happy to see a motel.

Dean was sick of the crappy motels, and sure as hell missed the bunker.

But Sam needed a place to rest up for the night, until he was back on his feet. And this would have to do.

The impala's engine came to a stuttering halt, as Dean pulled her up front.

Dean glanced down at Sam, his forehead creasing with worry.

"Sit tight, alright? And stay awake you hear me?" Dean said sharply, trying to get Sam to focus. He tapped Sam's chest, shaking him slightly once more.

He would be damned if he let Sam pass out in the car. He didn't know what was happening to Sam, but didn't want to take any chances.

Sam hummed in response, as if answering was too strenuous.

Dean practically flew out the impala, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean's mind raced as he got the room key from the clerk, his legs throwing him forward.

"You have a good night, Mr. Young" The paunch bald man had grunted from behind the counter.

Under any other circumstances Dean would have smirked at the ACDC inspired alias on the card, but he couldn't think straight.

Not while Sam was in pain and hurting in the car.

This was all so fucked up, this whole situation.

But Dean would fix it, just like he always did.

Dean would take care of Sam. He knew now that he couldn't protect Sam from everything; they had both learned that long ago.

But Dean would be damned if he didn't try.

Dean climbed into the Impala, pulling her around to their room.

He turned the keys, the engine coming to a stuttering halt.

Dean glanced down anxiously at his kid, worry threatening to choke him. No, he couldn't lose it now. _Focus,_ Dean thought tersely.

Dean reached over the back seat, slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder.

He went over to the other side of the car, his heart thundering in his chest. Terrible possibilities flashed through Dean's mind. He had watched Sam die too many times; he wouldn't survive it if he had to witness it again.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel, unless Sam was somehow apart of it.

Sam was Dean's happy ending. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone else; including Sam.

Dean reached down, practically ripping car door off of the Impala.

Sam's face was set in a heavy grimace, pain flitting across his features. Worry fluttered in Dean's chest once more.

"C'mon buddy, let's get you inside." Dean muttered, pulling Sam from the car and slinging Sam's arm over his shoulder.

Sam's hollow frame sagged against Dean, his bones jabbing into his side. The kid had lost too much weight for Dean's liking since the trials.

Dean wrenched the door open to the room, flipping on the lights as he went. The bright light saturated the room, filling it with a deep yellow color.

Sam winced at the immediate brightness, his bright green eyes rimmed with red.

Dean leaned over, setting Sam down on one of the beds.

Sam let go of Dean's grasp, and stumbled, his world tipping sideways.

"Woah! Sam. Easy, I got you buddy. You're going to be just fine." Dean said softly, steadying the younger Winchester before his head could collide with the side table. Sam sagged against Dean, his head resting in the crook of Dean's shoulder.

"Up you go, Sammy." Dean said with concern, gritting his teeth as he hoisted Sam up on to the bed and drew back the covers. He leaned down taking off Sam's rain soaked boots and jacket.

Sam didn't protest as he normally would've, his face furrowed in pain as his eyes flickered weakly.

Dean threw his duffel bag onto the bed, dumping out its contents quickly. The first aide kit, sat at the bottom, the clear plastic shining subtly in the lamp light.

Dean had picked this up on a supply run, figuring that they ought to have something just in case a hunt went wrong. He silently thanked whatever had possessed him to get it.

Dean yanked the box open, ripping apart the outer layer of plastic with his teeth. He tossed the box aside reaching for the pain meds down at the bottom.

Dean went over to the sink, filling a glass with water.

He went over to Sam, placing the cup in his hands.

"Here, take these." Dean said, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

"What are they?" Sam asked, looking down at the two blue pills in his hands.

"Effective" Dean said with a slight grin. "They'll help, trust me."

Sam shook his head but tossed them into his mouth, washing them down with the water.

Sam frowned as he swallowed, his head sinking back against the pillow.

"Shit, Sam. What the hell was that?" Dean said, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed.

"S'hard to explain." Sam murmured, his tired green eyes on Dean.

"Try me." Dean said, his vocie coming out sharper than he'd intended.

Sam sighed, avoiding Dean's pressing gaze.

"Ever since Gadreel...I've been having these...visions." Sam said spitting the word out between gritted teeth. "Like I have a link to him or something. Past, present, all those memories; tucked away up here." Sam said, tapping the side of his head weakly.

Sam frowned, his entire body sagging against the bed.

"All of the terrible things he's done, and is still doing..." Sam said trailing off, piching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "And they're getting worse, more intense. And I can't stop it. Any of it." Sam said hollowly, his voice vacant of emotion.

Was it even possible? For Sam to be left with the horrifying visions of what Gadreel had done and was _still_ doing.

To torture Sam further, even after Gadreel had been expelled; with the hopes of finishing him off.

In some sort of fucked up way it was possible.

Dean closed his eyes, choking back the fury that threatened to sear through him.

Flashbacks of post-hell Sam flickered beneath Dean's eyelids.

_No, _Dean thought furiously.

Sammy wouldn't be tortured with visions, not any more. Not as long as there was a way to fix all this.

There had to be.

Anger swam through Dean at the thought of Sam being hurt by Gadreel. Dean would kill the son of a bitch first chance he got. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt Sam. Past or present, didn't matter they were all the same. For once Dean wished the brothers could catch a break. Hadn't they done enough? Hadn't they _given_ enough?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean said, half exasperated.

"Because I was pissed at you." Sam said his words slurring together. The meds were finally kicking in as Sam spoke. "Still am." Sam said, his green eyes half closed. "But I got your back Dean..no matter what happens. I'll watch out for you." Sam said, suddenly sounding much younger.

Dean snorted at the thought of Sam trying to protect him. The kid always got emotional after taking pain meds.

"Don't worry, about me Sam. I'll be fine." Dean said, glancing down at the Mark of Cain absently. He tugged his shirt down, rolling the cuffs over the mark.

"No, but I m'n it D'n" Sam said, his voice full of conviction.

"I know you do Sammy...Get some shut eye." Dean said, meeting Sam's gaze. He patted Sam's shoulder standing up.

Sam nodded, pulling the covers over his head.

Dean half smiled, wondering why it took a crisis for either brother to talk about their feelings. Dean stood up reaching over for the first aide kit he had tossed onto the bed, and tucked it into his duffel bag. He washed a hand down his face, and glanced over at his baby brother.

* * *

The clock read _4:13 A.M._ by the nightstand. Dean couldn't sleep, as he glanced out the window.

The rain had stopped, leaving outside covered in a layer of water. The wind howled beating against the motel door.

Sam's tense posture had relaxed as he slept, the meds finally kicking in. The grimace had finally slipped from Sam's face making him look years younger.

Dean timed his breaths with the rhythmic rise and fall of Sam's chest.

It was almost a force of habit as Dean sat by the motel door. Dean had done it since they were kids. Just in case anything had tried to come for Sam in the night; it would have to go through Dean first.

Dean tipped the whisky bottle back, glancing down absently at the Mark of Cain; it's rough edges glinting in the subdued light of the room. He tossed the cap onto the table, hoping to finish the bottle by morning.

The hollow after burn of the whisky was nothing compared to the emptiness the Mark of Cain left behind. All Dean craved was the sheer raw power that he felt when he held the blade.

What was worse was the feeling that came along with it; the terrifying exhilaration that came with holding it.

It had made him feel so _fucking_ powerful. Like he could do anything, tear down anything or anyone that stood in his way.

Alcohol was the only thing keeping him sane now that Crowley was in the wind with the First Blade.

Dean couldn't think about that right now. As soon as Sam was better they would head out to Albany, and try to figure out was going on with all the disappearances. Nothing about the case sat right with Dean, but they had to save as many people as they could.

Even now. After all this time.

* * *

**TBC...:)**

**Please Review!**


	3. Damaged

**AN:** Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait for this chapter. Between working three jobs and school, I hardly have time to write. So again, sorry for the delay but I wanted to make sure this chapter was just the way I wanted it. I hope you guys enjoy it! Reviews are love!

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_"I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. **I sought my brother, and in them I found all three."**_

* * *

Dean paced back and forced anxiously, his watchful gaze never leaving Sam's pallid face. Sam's breathing hitched and broke as he slept; worry gnawing at Dean as he watched.

He couldn't shake this nagging feeling that something wrong; not just with Sam but with the case in Albany. Dean's scratched at the mark absently, his thoughts scattered.

The mark had left Dean anxious and tense, not allowing him a moments rest. He hadn't slept in over three days; and it had set Dean over the edge.

But Sam was sick, something was wrong with him. Dean would stow his own crap until Sam was better or until he could fix all of this.

He just had to deal, he could do that for Sam. But he was going to need some angelic assistance, and Cas was the only game in town.

Cas hadn't been answering Dean's prayers all morning, which had bothered Dean more than he was willing to admit.

He hardly asked anything of Cas, and when he needed him most he was nowhere to be found.

No fallen angel would respond to his call; not that Dean would want one of them to. Not after what happened with _Gad-_

_No._

Dean pushed the thought from his mind, trying to calm the burning fury that raged through him.

Dean's heart thundered in his ears as he struggled to keep him emotions at bay.

_Thud_

_Thud_

_Thud_

Each heartbeat louder than that last.

He couldn't help the anger that consumed him. The rage seemed to be a constant, always there in the background, lying dormant until something irritated Dean.

The Mark left a sort of feeling that Dean couldn't shake. It was a constant hum in the back of Dean's mind; one he couldn't turn off.

Pulsating like a live wire, the thrum never ceased within Dean. And he wished it would just _stop_.

Dean wanted the Mark gone; but needed the rush that came along when the blade and mark were joined as one.

Like a junkie who was jonesing for his next hit, he _needed_ the mark.

Dean placed a hand over the Mark, letting his fingers trail over the raised edges, as if covering it would make it disappear.

But it didn't, it only faded for a moment. Just long enough for Dean to think clearly.

The anger ebbed from his mind leaving him empty, almost hollow.

Dean turned on his heels stepping out into the night.

The cool night air greeted him, soothing his nerves as his breath came out in small tufts.

Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly letting the night wash over him.

Droplets pelted Dean's face softly as he glanced up at the cloudy night.

He paused, inhaling sharply through his nose.

_Dammit Cas you better answer. _Dean thought the words with almost a threatening edge to his thoughts.

"Cas get your feathery ass down here. We've got a problem. "

The freezing rain trickled down Deans face , saturating his hair and clothes.

Seconds passed; and a rustling of wings echoed mutely in Dean's ears.

"_Dean._" Cas said, his tone pressing with urgency.

Deans eyes flickered open, his gaze met by a pair of dark blue eyes.

"Cas, what the hell? I been screaming myself hoarse over here all night."

"I heard you. What is it you need, Dean?" Cas uttered briskly, his voice cold.

Dean recoiled at the unexpected hostility.

"What the _hell's_ your problem, Cas?" Dean snapped, irritation seeping into his voice. He'd had enough of Cas' crap.

"Dean-" Cas began, turning away from Dean to look out the motel window.

"Hey" Dean said, grabbing Cas' shoulder; turning him to face him. "Talk to me. You've been gone for _weeks_. You want to explain to me where the hell you've been?" Dean said his tone sharp.

He couldn't help it, Cas had gone MIA after he'd stopped by the bunker a few weeks ago. He had healed Sam of his wounds, and left without so much as a parting goodbye.

Dean had felt slightly irritated at the angels sudden departure, and wanted answers. He'd be damned if he let Cas skip out on them again.

He was already on edge; the slightest thing setting him off. It was starting to be a lot harder for him to choke down the emotions.

Cas shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at Dean.

"It's hell on earth for Angels, Dean. Much has happened since I've seen you last. There's been much turmoil between my brothers and sisters; factions fighting other factions. It's chaos." Cas sighed, his forehead furrowing.

"I've banned with a few factions, brought them together, Dean. I think I can set an example for all of them." Cas' said, a dozen emotions flitting across his face.

"What are you trying to do? _Lead_ them?" Dean grunted, his tone colored with surprise. "You've been down that road before, Cas. And we both know how it ends-"

"They're slaughtering each other, Dean." Cas said angrily, cutting Dean off. His eyes retained a sort of misery Dean couldn't place.

"I won't allow it, Dean, not anymore." Cas snapped, his hands in fists at his side. His shoulders were rigid as he stood facing Dean.

"If I can stop what they're doing to each other, then maybe my fallen brothers and sisters can get a second chance as I had intended before the fall." Cas said his tone softer now. He casted his eyes downwards, avoiding Dean's gaze.

There was a beat of silence as Castiel struggled to regain his composure.

"I've organized a sort of headquarters, where the factions lie under my command. It effective Dean. More effective than I could have hoped. Angels need something to follow; someone to believe in. I was foolish to not see that before." Cas murmured aloud, more to himself than to Dean.

"And you think you handle an operation like that? I mean, not for nothing Cas, but half the angels were or probably are still working for Metatron. Deep down, you gotta know that. You have to expect that some of them are playing you." Dean said, his voice pleading now.

Dean knew that Cas had the best of intentions; he always did. But sometimes things went sideways, and it was up to the Winchesters to clean his mess up.

"I know what I'm doing, there is no tolerance for such deceit amongst new recruits. I'm no leader, but I will lead if it means redemption for the atrocities I have committed." Cas said his shoulders heavy with shame.

"Just be careful, Cas."

"As always. Now what's wrong Dean? You wouldn't call for me if it wasn't important."

"It's Sam." Dean said, almost choking on the words as he spoke them aloud.

He glanced over at his little brother, a twinge of worry curling in the pit of his stomach.

If Dean wasn't so worried, he would have smiled.

After all these years; after everything that's happened between the both of them.

It was always about Sam. And it would always will be.

Dean would protect his little brother, _his kid,_ until his last fucking breath.

"He's been having these..visions." he said the last word begrudgingly, spitting it out between his teeth. "I think something's wrong with Sam."

Cas reached over, placing his hand over Sam's chest. A strong wave of dejá vu overwhelmed Dean as he watched Cas.

It was almost the same thing Gadreel had done, back in that hospital. Though Gadreel's intention had not been pure. They had been muddied with dark ideas and actions.

Sam's finger's twitched, though his body remained still as he slept. The pain meds kept the kid out cold.

_Sam had always been such a lightweight,_ Dean thought with affection.

Castiels head tilted as he concentrated on Sam. He frowned, his expression making Dean anxious.

Cas stiffened, as he watched something Dean couldn't see.

"What? What is it, Cas?" he said, wishing the angel would snap out of it. He _needed_ to know what was wrong.

Cas paused, lifting his hand from Sam's chest. He flexed his wrist, and set it down hastily.

"Well?" Dean snapped unintentionally. He clenched his jaw, his patience was running thin and he was fucking done.

"It seems that..Sam's body is slowly digressing back to it original state. Before Gadreel possessed him." Cas said slowly, his expression pained as he glanced up Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean said through his teeth.

"His body, the damage is worse than when I saw him last." Cas said glancing back at Sam. "When I said he was damaged in way that even I couldn't heal, I meant it. His body is deteriorating, at a progressive rate."

Dean blinked, feeling his anger fade as worry took its place.

Dean shook his head in denial, not accepting the angels words.

_No fucking way._

Sam wasn't going to die, not because of some stupid trial bullshit.

"Isn't there something we can do? A spell, a deal, _something_ that could help?" Dean said a hard edge to his voice. _Something that would stop this from happening to Sam. Anything that would give him more time._

Because that's exactly what the Winchester's did.

If one of them was dying, the other was dealing. An endless cycle of trading one life for the other.

But it was what Dean did. He had two jobs in this world being a hunter and watching out for Sam; always.

They were two parts of a whole; soulmates in every sense of the word.

He'd be damned if he let anything happen to Sam.

He couldn't fail Sam. H_e wouldn't._

Not again.

"_No_" Dean growled, anger swelling within him. No one was going to take Sam away from him.

Gadreel was as good as dead. Dean was going kill the son of a bitch first chance he got.

That was the angels first mistake; no one fucks with Sam.

And no one was going to to take his kid away.

"But I thought you'd already healed Sam back at the bunker?" Dean said, his eyes flitting anxiously to Sam's face. Sam's skin was an ashy white, all color leeched from his features.

There was a beat of silence; the only audible sound was the ragged breath that rattled in Sam's chest.

"It's my..stolen grace. It...weakens me. I'm not a full strength with it, but I'm entirely human without it. I used much of my grace to attempt to heal Sam before."

"Well clearly it didn't take." Dean snapped, washing a hand down his face.

"How long has he been in this state?" Cas said, his bright blue eyes fixed on Sam's face.

Dean racked his brain, a surge of guilt raining over him. He couldn't remember the last time Sam had looked alright; _looked healthy._

_"_Ever since the first trial, a few months at least." Dean murmured quietly.

"I see."

"What the _hell_ does that mean?" Dean said brusquely.

"Dean-"

"Spit it out, Cas."

Cas took a deep breath. "At this progressive rate, he won't have more than a few months Dean." Castiel said his voice pained.

_Months? _No, no, no no. This wasn't fucking happening.

Dean shook his head, a cold sense of dread seeping through him.

"What will you tell him? He must know Dean." Castiel murmured quietly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he held his hand over Sam's chest once more.

"I'm not going to let him think he's going to die. Nothing's going to happen to him, alright?"

Cas sighed. "_Dean_."

"Don't _Dean _me, Cas. Find something. There's gotta be some angelic super spell that can heal him. _Fix_ him."

Sam wasn't going to die on Dean, not _his_ kid. No fucking way.

Dean would endure hell a hundred times over if it meant Sam was safe, happy even.

Dean's happy ending didn't exist unless Sam was apart of it.

"Of course, Dean. Anything for the Winchesters." Cas said a slight sarcastic edge to his voice.

There was a muted sound of wings as Cas disappeared, a faint crinkling echoed throughout the room as papers fell to the floor.

The wind raged outside, rain pelting the windows furiously. A sharp crack of lightening flashed, followed by a clap of thunder.

Sam gasped, sitting upright in the bed, clutching his side. His bewildered green eyes searched the room until they meant Dean's gaze.

"Hey" Dean said softly, going to Sam's side. "Take it easy, you okay?"

Sam breathed heavily, his eyes squinting in pain.

Sam's temples throbbed painfully as he glanced up at his brother. The meds had worn off, leaving him with a raging migraine.

His chest felt heavy, every breath feeling more labored than the last.

"Sam?" Dean called, trying to get Sam's attention. He needed Sam to speak, to hear his little brothers voice.

"Dean." Sam gasped, looking dazedly at Dean as he tried to stand.

Dean held his arms out for Sam, ready in case the kid fell.

"Talk to me, you alright?" Dean asked, his big brother instincts kicking in.

"Why are always asking me that?" Sam said, a fresh wave of irritation rushing over him. He didn't feel well, and Sam just wanted to get on the road.

Sam swallowed, a jolt of pain rolling through him. He didn't know why he was feeling like crap, and he _hated_ it.

Sam blinked once more, glancing up at Dean.

"What are we still doing here? We have to get to Albany. What the hell, Dean?" Sam said.

"You're _sick_, Sam. You needed to rest." Dean said worry lacing his voice unintentionally.

Sam visibly swayed on his feet as he spoke, as if adding emphasis to his words.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam said, anger brewing beneath his calm demeanor.

"No you're not, and you know it." Dean said, trying to remain calm. It was difficult enough to stay calm these days with the mark's effects.

"Why don't we just take it easy for a couple of days, huh? Couple of days of crap cable won't hurt." Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We have to keep going, Dean. Theres no time for any of this. People are dying, Dean. Once upon a time that used to mean something to you."

"Shut up Sam" Dean interrupted, though there was no heat behind him words.

Sam took a deep breath trying to steady himself.

"Saving people, hunting things. Last I checked that was something we still did." Sam said bitingly his green eyes rimmed with exhaustion. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm gonna hunt. And that includes whatever's going down in Albany."

Dean stood rigidly, his hands balled in fists at his sides. Sam's cold demeanor cut through Dean worse than he would have thought possible.

But he wouldn't let Sam know how much it bothered him.

Sam swayed once more on his feet, his skin paler than Dean would have liked.

Sam waved off Dean's offer to help steady him.

"I'm going to New York, with or without you." Sam said coldly, knowing Dean wouldn't let Sam take the case alone.

Dean was tethered to the kid. Wherever Sam went Dean would follow.

"Fine." Dean said through his teeth. "We'll leave first thing in the morning."

Dean's heart pounded in his ears, the steady drum of it drowning out everything else.

Sam spun on his heels, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

This case was going to be the death of him.

_**TBC**_


	4. Frayed

**AN: **Hi everyone! Here's the next chapter! I wanted this one to be a slightly longer since there was so much I was trying to fit in. I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Side Note:** I understand that it is difficult to wait in between updates. Believe me, as a rabid fanfic reader myself, I know the struggle. That being said, I only follow my muse / creative influence when it comes to the stories I write. As I become inspired, I write my material. So if you cannot wait then I would suggest not furthering the story unless you are comfortable with waiting. Thank you so much for the reviews and all the love; I love the enthusiasm.

* * *

**raison d'****être** — [french] reason for existence; the thing that is most important to someone or something; a person's raison d'être is their purpose or reason for living.

* * *

_The room was poorly lit as Gadreel sauntered into the house, Angel blades at the ready in either hand. _

_The door creaked lightly on its hinges, and he paused silently hoping the angels who resided in the house had not heard his entry._

_This vessel, The Great Sam Winchester, was one of the strongest in all creation. Originally meant to house the Morning Star and yet for the moment it was his._

_Though this vessel was larger than he was used to and therefore much harder to maneuver. And by default made the angel's actions much louder._

_Gadreel tilted his head, listening for any movement. Satisfied with the lack of noise, he continued through the house._

_He wasn't necessarily worried with waking any of the angels._

_Angels of course did not possess the mundane need of sleep, but they could remain inert, resting in some form or another._

_But what he needed was the element of surprise in order to carry out his mission._

_He could feel his grace stretch through every inch of this vessel. He flexed his hand, grateful that the youngest Winchester was not consciously aware of his presence._

_If he had any idea of his actions, he would eject him as soon as was possible. Of that the angel was absolutely sure._

_But at the moment Sam was tucked away in a corner of his own mind; immersed in case created by Sam's own memories._

_Gadreel smirked with Sam's mouth, rather proud of his own marksmanship._

_Though he did not wish Sam Winchester any discomfort of pain; he was simply a means to an end._

_Just as he healed the charred and broken insides of Sam Winchester, he strengthened himself as well._

_And he was stronger because of it everyday._

_But what he did was not only for himself. Gadreel had meant what he had said to Dean Winchester in wanting the benefits to be mutual._

_Gadreel did want the youngest Winchester to heal and be whole once more._

_He had heard of Sam Winchester in Heaven's prison; both his pitfalls and triumphs._

_And Gadreel wanted the broken boy to have peace, he was deserved of it._

_Gadreel shook Sam's head, focusing himself on the task at hand._

_Metatron had sent word that a group of angels —amongst the strongest still left from the garrison— had possessed a family in St. Louis, Missouri._

_The vessels' family bloodline was amongst the strongest, and the angels were a force to be reckoned with. _

_They had refused Metatron's initial offer of joining his faction. They posed a threat to Metatron, and had wanted them eliminated, or that was what Gadreel had been told._

_Metatron had simply slipped a paper with the targeted angels names to a lower order angel_—_Arael_—_who was working as Metatron's temporary second in command. _

_Arael had then given Gadreel the list without so much as an explanation of Metatron's whereabouts or motivations. _

_Gadreel had been seeing less and less of Metatron since the two had joined ranks, but Gadreel had dimissed it as simply Metatron being too busy attending to his newfound duties._

_Gadreel loathed the idea of taking more lives, in the name of any God, new or old._

_His father had not been a wrathful God; he would not have wanted this for any of his sons or daughters._

_But this was his second chance. A chance at something more, perhaps redemption if labels were appropriate._

_He wanted more than redemption itself. The chance to give himself a new name other than "The Angel Who Let The Snake Into Eden". _

_Had he not served enough penance in Heaven's lock up? Had he not given enough? _

_Though it did not matter any more. Who could be the judge of what was suitable punishment for his crimes? _

_God was nowhere to be found, and this newly claimed God was no true comparison._

_ Nothing could be done to create a new name for himself if he did not take action. _

_And this is what would wash away his abhorred sins. If it meant taking a few lives_—_ whose innocence was highly debated_—_ then so be it. _

_At one point Gadreel would have been horrified at the atrocities he had committed and the lives he had continually seized._

_ But all creatures had their breaking point and he had reached his long ago. __So he would do what had to be done, despite the repercussions._

_He listened, waiting for any movement and when there was none, continued on his path through the house. _

_He had been watching the house for a few hours now, and had seen the vessels. _

_The family was made up of a church deacon, his wife, and their two teenage daughters. _

_Gadreel hadn't wished to learn their names; as if that made the mindless murder of the angels along with their hosts any more painless._

_The house itself was small, a two story condo in the heart of the city. _

_He sauntered up the stairs, and into one of the girls' room. He would make this swift; both noiseless and painless for the both of them._

_He opened the door, pushing it open with the tips of his fingers. _

_Both angels were faced away from him, their attention focused on a map with various pinpricks of red decorating it surface._

_It was better this way; a swift death for both angels. Both of whom he had no acquaintance with. _

_Though he could not have met many angels from other garrisons during his time in Heaven's jail, Gadreel mused inwardly to himself._

_From a tactical point of view, there was no way of killing these two without alerting the others._

_He leaned forward thrusting, both angel blades into either of their backs. _

_They shrieked grotesquely, as their graces burned out their vessels insides. They collapsed in a bloody heap, their vessels' bodies slumped in awkward positions. _

_Blood splattered Gadreels face along with his hands and arms. The gore of his atrocity painting his skin__—__well__—__Sams skin._

_He reached forward pulling the blades from their backs. __The other two would not be nearly as easy, now that they heard the deaths of the others._

_Gadreel turned on his heels, intent on finishing what he had started. This massacre would end, one way or another._

_He aimed him palm forward pushing the other door open with a flick of his wrist. _

_The door flew open with a loud bang, shattering the mirror which hung upon the wall. Though the angels inside hardly flinched at his noisy entry._

_Both angels stood, angel blades in hand. _

_"If you think you will stand a chance, you have been gravely mistaken." Hasdiel said, through his teeth._

_Gadreel smirked, he had the power of his new god and the strength of his vessel, to back him. He was unstoppable._

_Gadreel felt almost detached as Jael rushed him, and he leaned forward flicking one of his angel blades into Jael's chest._

_It was as if it was all slowed down, he saw every moment, every flicker of emotion upon the angels' face._

_She screamed a guttural cry; her grace burning her vessel out effectively silencing her._

_He held his palm out once more, holding Hasdiel where he stood. __Gadreel twisted Sam's wrist ever so slightly, and Hasdiel grimaced, the angel blade falling from his grasp._

_"Do not do this, brother. You must know of Metatrons intentions; they are not of pure of heart." Hasdiel whispered._

_"I am doing what I must." Gadreel says monotonously, an almost mechanical edge to his voice. It was easier to kill when he was numb to the gore._

_He yanked Hasdiel by the throat pinning him to the ground, and he reached back, burying the angel blade into his chest._

_The angels screams echoed in his ears, his grace blinding him momentarily. And then, perfect silence._

_Gadreel reached down picking up his fallen angel blades, and shut the bedroom door behind him._

_He washed his hands in he sink, cleansing himself of the slaughter. _

_The water ran red, as it swirled down the drain._

_He pulled the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, and crossed the names from the list. _

_His pen slashed through the names with vivid red ink; reminding him of the bloodshed he had left behind upstairs._

_Eremiel_

_Hasdiel_

_Jael_

_Marmaroth_

_One more dark deed done in the name of redemption._

_He would lock the front door as he left; leaving his sins and the heavenly bloodbath behind him._

* * *

Sam woke with a start, gasping frantically in the darkness of their motel room.

_What the hell was that? _Sam thought with an almost bewildered edge to his thoughts.

He was bathed in a cold sweat; his thoughts scattered.

_Another damn nightmare...or vision?_ Sam couldn't tell if which was which anymore. He was plagued by them every night, it almost reminded him of Azazel's visions.

Sam had to stop himself. That was over now, and it sure as hell wasn't happening again.

_No._

These weren't like the visions that tormented him all those years ago.

Beside the splitting migraine which accompanied them; there was a certain vicious edge to all of them.

Sam knew they were visions the moment they happened, and what he just witnessed definitely wasn't that.

It must be fragments or pieces of Gadreel, after he was ejected.

_He wouldn't let some pissed off Angel ruin him,_ Sam thought a vicious edge to the words.

He glanced over at Dean, grateful that he hadn't woken him up. Dean hardly slept as it was; even less now that he possessed the Mark Of Cain.

As irritated as Sam was with his older brother he couldn't help but worry about him.

He turned over on his side, the glow of the clock on the nightstand shining through his closed eyes.

He winced slightly at the cold burn which spread through his chest at the movement.

His chest ached, his lungs heavier than they should have been.

He felt like shit, and was sick of it. Hopefully it would blow over, like anything else he had gone through.

Sam reached over, popping two more of the prescription pain meds from the bedside table into his mouth.

Sam smirked at the heavy duty narcotics, wondering how Dean had got his hands on them. Though when it came to his big brother, Sam never questioned his methods.

And yet that seemed to always be the case with his older brother. Whatever Sam needed; it was there.

Even as a kid Dean always made sure Sam never lacked anything, regardless of the cost. Sam couldn't help the overwhelming nostalgia that came over him.

The aching pain in his chest never seemed to cease, but Sam shrugged it off throwing the covers off of him. He just needed some air.

Maybe a run would do him some good. He missed the feel of the asphalt flying beneath feet; the chill air nipping at his cheeks.

He limped around the room and slipped on a hoodie along with his running shoes. With one last glance at his brother he sidled out the door noiselessly.

The sun hadn't risen yet, leaving the morning sky a deep purple.

He started up at a slow jog, allowing the cool morning air to fill his aching lungs.

The pain in his chest subsided momentarily, and he smiled inwardly, loving the abandon feeling of running.

Though he wasn't as fast as he would have liked, he pushed further allowing the world around him to pass in a colorful blur.

He needed a distraction between Dean, Metatron, and whatever the hell was going on his his head.

Sam vaguely wondered if the vivid dreams were things Gadreel had done or were doing was a mystery in itself.

But he couldn't get a handle on them; any of the vision like dreams.

Sam grunted as he ran past another building, its glass windows mirroring his movements as he catapulted himself over the cracked sidewalk.

He had to at least try and figure out what was going down in Albany. They were only a few hours out; they would make it if they hurried.

After a few more minutes, Sam figured he ought to head back to the motel before Dean woke up and went into panic mode.

Sam rounded the corner, the motel swimming into view.

For a split second, there was a tightening in Sam's chest as he pushed himself even faster around the grimy sidewalk.

He had almost made his way back to the motel. Sam gasped, his breaths coming out in frantic puffs in front of his face.

Sam slowed, his limbs feeling heavier by the second as he stumbled past a dilapidated liquor store.

_This was not happening. What was wrong with him?_

He couldn't get air into his lungs, and his body was panicking.

His steps faltered and he tripped, his hands taking the brunt of the impact as he fell.

Pain seared through his body as he sat gasping against the alleyway wall.

_Breathe. Just keep breathing. _Sam chanted inwardly, as the street light flickered above him.

Sam glanced down blearily at his hands, sucking in a sharp breaths.

A silver light traveled through his arms, illuminating his veins in silvery white light. It vaguely reminded Sam of angel grace.

It traveled up his arms viciously, and disappeared completely, leaving behind an intense burning sensation in his arms.

_What the hell?_ The light almost reminded him of the energy that had lit up his veins that night in the church.

Was it still in him, after all this time? Or was it residual grace left over from expelling Gadreel?

After the gasping subsided he stood up, leaning on the side of the motel door.

* * *

Dean eyes snapped open, and he sat up quickly, scanning the room for his brother but he was nowhere in sight.

He glanced over at the bed furthest away from the door, _Sam's_ bed.

Sam bed sheets were in a shapeless heap, showing no sign that Sam had slept there.

_Where was Sam?_ Dean thought with a panic beginning to spread through him. He had been asleep for two hours, where could Sam have gone?

Dammit Sam.

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't even keep track of his sick little brother.

Anywhere where Sam was, Dean wouldn't be far. It was as if where one was the other followed; two halves of a whole.

Dean realized he had fallen asleep in clothes from the day before, not even bothering to take off his boots.

The door wrenched opened with a heavy creak, as Sam sauntered in, his skin leeched of all color.

Sam winced as he stepped into the room, the nausea only subsiding slightly.

Dean was at Sam's side in an instant, his brother instincts kicking in immediately.

"What happened? You okay?" Dean demanded, holding Sam at arms length.

The kid looked like he was going to pass out, or thrown up. Dean wasn't going either one happen, not as long as he was here.

Sam said nothing, his heart pounding in his chest from exertion.

"Sam?" Dean said more softly, trying to hold his younger brothers gaze.

Sam's eyes refocused and he gasped audibly.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam said breathily. "Just went for a run, that's all."

"You went for a run?!" Dean asked incredulously, freshly pissed that Sam was exerting himself while he was sick.

Sam shrugged, his chest heaving slightly as if he couldn't get enough air. Dean felt a twinge of worry as he looked at Sam.

"You look like hell, sit down." Dean said, prodding Sam towards the bed closest to the door.

"What happened?" Dean inquired once more, scrutinizing his brothers ashen pallor.

"I told you, Dean. _Nothing_." Sam muttered, slightly annoyed by Dean's badgering.

"Then why are your hands bloody?" Dean drawled, staring pointedly at his little brother's hands.

Sam cursed inwardly, hoping Dean wouldn't have seen. Nothing got by his older brother, did it?

Sam clenched his hands into fists at his sides, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his arms.

"I...I..fell." Sam uttered, squaring his jaw against the sting in his hands.

Dean returned Sam's scowl. He hated Sam's attitude towards him, but what he hated more was an injured little brother.

Especially one that was already sick to top it all off.

Dean sighed, shaking his head at his clumsy kid. "Sit down" Dean ordered, crossing over to the bathroom.

Pulling out the peroxide and a couple of cotton balls from the first aid kit, he made his way back over to Sam.

"Alright lemme see." Dean said, flipping Sam's hands over.

Jagged scrapes shined angrily over Sam's palms, thought they weren't deep enough to warrant stitches.

"Not too bad." Dean muttered more to himself than to Sam.

"I'm not a kid anymore Dean. I can take care of myself." Sam grumbled, clearly miffed by Dean's mother hen tendencies.

"You're always a kid to me, kiddo." Dean said with wink as he glanced back up at Sam.

Sam gave Dean his best bitch face, but couldn't help the smile that played at edge of his lips.

Leave it to Dean to find a way to make Sam smile, when he was pissed as hell at his older brother.

"This might sting a little." Dean muttered, unwillingly to hurt an already in pain Sam.

Dean dabbed at the dried blood coating Sam's palm methodically, Dean almost smirked at the familiarity of it.

Having had to deal with scraped knees and runny noses his entire life, this was nothing new to Dean.

And he wouldn't have it any other way, Dean thought fondly.

Sam winced slightly as Dean dragged the peroxide soaked cotton ball over his palm.

"Sorry." Dean murmured, as if already in understanding of Sam's discomfort. Dean reached over and wrapped Sam's hands with gauze meticulously.

"There." Dean announced gathering the first aid kit and packing it back into his bag.

"Now try not to be such a klutz okay?" Dean said over his shoulder, with a slight grin.

Sam scoffed returning the grin, and went over to sit down at the motel table and opened his laptop.

"Did Garth ever call back with more intel on the case?" Dean asked, his fingers typing furiously as he spoke.

"No. He's shot us an e-mail and attached whatever else he could find. But Every time I tried calling him the line cut out." Sam said glancing up at Dean.

"All right well we need a few leads before we can head further upstate." Dean said pulling a beer from the mini fridge.

Dean sat down across from his brother, and looked up at Sam's concentrated expression over the lip of his beer.

The bags beneath his eyes had deepened, though his skin remained its healthy hue. So maybe that was a good sign at least.

"Hey Sam...How ya' feelin'?" Dean asked carefully, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

Sam familiar green eyes flitted upwards, meeting Dean's gaze evenly. His hands froze momentarily on the keys.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam said, trying keep his voice even as he spoke. He didn't want Dean to go full mother hen

Sam was all too familiar with visions. The head splitting pain, the nightmares, and the fear that came along with them.

And he would deal with them, just like he had all those years ago. He had dealt with them all before.

_But this wasn't like before_, Sam thought quietly to himself. And he wasn't sure these were actually visions.

"Bullshit." Dean said flatly, setting his beer down on the grimy motel table.

"You're having visions from whatever Gadreel did to you, and you're trying to tell me you're _fine_?" Dean said incredulously.

"We don't know what they are Dean. And we won't know until we find Gadreel, and torch his angelic ass with holy fire." Sam said, his gaze darkening.

A twinge of worry curled in Dean's stomach at the thought of Sam trying to take down anything in his condition.

Sam's eyes flitted back to his laptop, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

At first Gadreel's possession has seemed like a gift.

Dean could almost be happy, even. His kid was looking healthier; less pale, his weight had been returning to normal, his appetite increased.

It was more than Dean could have hoped for..at first.

Sam had a new air to his personality; as if his newfound health put a smile on the kids face.

As if the angels presence made Sam feel strong; happy even.

It wasn't until Gadreel had left Sam's body that Dean had noticed the changes. It had taken a few days, but he had seen it.

The immediate loss of appetite, and the dropping of weight happened too fast for Dean's liking.

Sam now slept longer than Dean did; which was not normal to say the least.

Dean would find Sam knocked out in his room until mid afternoon; but it never occurred to him that Sam was getting worse rather than the other way around.

And as much as he didn't wan't to admit to himself, Dean knew Sam was deteriorating.

It had only been a few months since expelling Gadreel and Sam's condition was already worsening.

He just couldn't fucking stand to watch it happen. This angel had fucked with the wrong kid, _Dean's_ kid.

He glanced over at Sam, almost out of habit.

Sam was still busy working on his research, his entire face furrowed in concentration.

The only sound resonating through the room was the furious typing of Sam's fingers.

The sound almost made Dean smile. If wasn't for the fact that Sam was starting to waste away in front of Dean's eyes, he would've smiled.

Gadreel hadn't cared about Sam when he came to Dean in that hospital. He had only his own motives in mind when had had made his offer.

Sam was one of the strongest vessels in creation; it was no surprise that Gadreel would want to possess him.

In a way, Dean envied Gadreel's detachment; simply looking at Sam as another human, another vessel. Not worrying about Sam's existence or well being every waking moment.

What must _that_ be like?

A shiver ran through Dean at the thought. He couldn't imagine that sort of existence. _Didn't_ want to imagine.

"Hey so I ran a search through NYPD statewide database and got a hit on one of our victims." Sam said, breaking Dean from his reverie.

"How'd you hack into a _police_ database?" Dean cut in, taking a sip of his beer. He smirked, amazed by by Sam's intellect.

"Don't sound too surprised." Sam said, laughing slightly despite himself.

Dean wasn't surprised in the slightest. He had been to every science fair, spelling bee, and play the kid had been in.

He had seen his kid excel in everything he pursued, so it didn't surprise him that Sam could do this too.

"I'm not, I just...that's sort of hardcore even for us." Dean said, raising an eyebrow as his younger brother.

Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder reading through the police reports, taking a swig from his beer.

"Nice." Dean commented.

"Well I didn't learn it all by myself. I picked up a few things from Charlie. Turns out her that girl can hack into just about anything." Sam said, musing over what he had dug up on the the three victims.

He had always known Sam was smart, ever since he was a kid.

"So what the connection?" Dean said with a vague smirk, scanning through Sam's research.

"Turns out three of our warehouse victims worked at the same chemical processing plant, just two blocks away from where the disappearances happened." Sam said drumming his fingers impatiently along the motel table.

"So we thinking that our "abductor" works somewhere at the plant?" Dean said, rubbing his eyes as he squinted at the screen once more.

"I mean it worth a shot. We might as well check it out." Sam stated cooly shrugging, avoiding Dean's gaze.

Dean frowned at Sam's cool demeanor. It frustrated him; he just didn't understand why the kid couldn't forgive and forget?

"Alright, be ready in fifteen. I'll pack the car." Dean said gruffly, turning away from Sam.

He spun on his heels towards the motel door, feeling angrier than he wanted to be.

* * *

The impala rumbled her familiar roar, as the two lane asphalt flew beneath her. The darkness sheltered the boys in within the Impala

The weather had improved considerably from the night before, so Sam hoped they would be able to make good time after they checked out the plant.

The sun had begun to set as they made their way upstate.

"Leave it to them to have the processing plant all the way on the outskirts of town." Dean muttered, his hands tightening on the steering wheel unconsciously.

Sam smirked at his older brother's grumbling, his eyes focusing on the map before him.

"So according to the state database the plant is completely off the grid, no street address I could find off of any county records either. " Sam said, his hands trailing up an unmarked path along the map.

"It should be..Right about here." Sam muttered, pulling a pen from between his teeth and marking the spot with a red slash.

"Right there! Turn here Dean." Sam said, pointing to a turn off in the road.

The disappearances had occurred just two blocks down he road. They had to figure this out before more people turned up missing.

Dean squinted into the dark, angling the Impala down the next street. The car slowed to a crawl as they pulled up to the plant.

The lights from the warehouse illuminated the night in a brilliant white light.

"Now why the hell would the workers still be here this late at night?" Dean thought aloud, as he killed the engine.

"Does any of this smell right to you?" Dean said turning to look at Sam.

Sam shook his head, his expression conflicted. "No but it's not like we can just ignore a bunch of missing people."

Dean swore under his breath. "I know." he said, sounding defeated. He didn't want to check it out especially with Sam so weak.

"Alright we'll check it out." Dean grumbled, tucking his Taurus into his jacket. Sam nodded, climbing out of the Impala and shutting the door close behind him.

Sam pulled a gun from his jacket, holding it firm in his hand. He winched slightly at the aching pain that shot through his chest.

"Stay close, Sammy." Dean said anxiously, standing closer to Sam as if the proximity to Sam would keep him safe.

Sam nodded wordlessly, raising his gun. Dean treaded lightly as he neared the warehouse door.

He glanced over at Sam, and nodded wordlessly understanding Dean's unspoken command.

Sam held the gun in his hand, and wrenched the door open with a harsh creak. Dean sauntered in immediately, shielding Sam from view immediately.

If there was anything in here, it would have to go through Dean to get to his little brother.

Dean had a bad feeling about this, and usually his instincts were always right.

The warehouse had pallets stacked haphazardly, and crates full of metal odds and ends.

_What the hell?_

This didn't look like a processing plant, this was just a warehouse. It was a front for whatever illegal shit that was going on here.

It was eerily silent as Dean passed through entrance hall and into the main

Dean half turned feeling Sam shadowing his every move.

It was eerily quiet as both brothers passed through the warehouse. Dean paused, realizing he had stepped in something.

A large pool of black ectoplasm coated the bottom of his boot.

_What the hell? Ghosts?_

A few moments passed, and Dean turned to ask Sam a question. Though his little brother was nowhere to be found.

"Sam?" Dean shouted in an almost panicked voice holding his gun up as he went back towards the warehouse entrance.

An enraged cry answered him from behind him.

"Dean!" Sam bleated, his voice reverbrating with panic against the metal walls.

Dean's legs shot forward unthinkingly, following Sam's the sound of Sam's plea.

See that was the thing about Sam, he would never say "help" but instead would cry out "Dean" instead. It didn't matter if Sam was three or thirty it was all the same.

"Sammy?!" Dean shouted anxiously, his voice shooting up a couple of octaves .

_No. This was not happening. Not now._

_"DE-" and the cry was cut off abruptly, as Sam was silence._

Dean picked up the pace,making his way towards the middle room of the warehouse.

Multiple bodies lay scattered around the room, lying in pools of their own blood.

Dean's heart nearly stuttered to a stop, as he saw Sam lying on the ground next to another body, utterly motionless.

"Sam." Dean said, shaking his head at his brother. Dean crashed to his knees next to Sam, hating how still the kid was.

"_Sammy._" Dean said slapping his brother's face, trying to rouse the kid from unconsciousness.

_But what if the reason Sam wasn't waking up was because he was dead?_

No. Dean couldn't think like that.

He wouldn't do it.

But there was so much blood.

Too much blood. It pooled beneath Sam in a sinister manner.

Dean had to find the wound before Sam bled out.

Without warning, Dean was hit from behind, a blunt hit to the back of the head.

A sharp pain shot through Dean as fell to the ground, blacking out instantly.

* * *

Dean eyes opened blearily, his head feeling like it would split in half.

He blinked at the bright lights, a kaleidoscope of shapes warping his vision.

_What the hell happened?_

A figure stood before him, and Dean blinked, trying to clear the haze from his mind.

Dean grunted, as the figure came into focus. It was a kid. Well a kid to Dean, anyway. couldn't have been more than twenty.

"Rise and shine, princess." The young kid said scathingly, his lanky blonde hair falling into his face.

Blood was spattered across his face, and coated the side of his neck.

Dean shook his head, his mind reeling.

Sam.

"Where's Sam?" Dean grunted, his eyes flitting around the room nervously, looking for his kid.

The kid smiled a sort childish grin at the mention of Sam's name.

"Dean Winchester, I presume?" he said, twisting a jagged knife in between his hands.

"Where's Sam?" Dean repeated relentlessly, gritting his teeth against the nausea that threatened to overpower him.

"Sam, Sam, Sam." the kid retorted, shaking his head.

"Do you realize how much easier your life would be if you if you would stop worrying so much?"

Dean only answered with a deep scowl.

"Piss Off." Dean said balefully, his expression dangerous.

"He's over there." The kid said, gesturing to to where Sam had lied just moments ago, covered in blood.

"What did you do to him?" Dean said, unable to tear his eyes from Sam's bloody form.

Anxiety spiked within Dean as he looked at Sam.

"He's fine, for now. Just taking a little catnap." the kid said, waving the knife in Sam's general direction.

"I'm gonna kill you." Dean growled, realizing that his hands were bound to the beam he was leaning against.

"I'd like to see you try." the kid said with a smirk. He blinked, his eyes flitting to shiny black.

_Demon._

"Oh I'm gonna kill you, you can bet on it." Dean snarled, the rope digging into his wrists as he leaned forward.

"We're going to make Sam wish he were dead. And there's nothing you can do about it." the demon grinned, a menacing glint in his black eyes.

The demon blinked, his eyes returning back to their grey color.

Rage burned white hot through Dean at the mention of the demon hurting Sam, _his_ Sam. All he saw was Red, he would kill all those sons of bitches.

"We?" Dean growled, working furiously at the ropes binding his hands. If he could just gnaw them off and get to the demon knife concealed in his boot...

"Oh yes _we_. But not just yet." the demon said carefully. "_Bigger_ plans for our little Sam here."

"Boss said that the youngest Winchester was his, special orders." the demon drawled, dragging his boots along the cement floor.

"You're not gonna to touch him." Dean uttered through his teeth, leaning forward the ropes biting into his wrists. He didn't care.

He was going to make this piece of shit demon wish he had never spoken Sam's name.

The demon threw his head back, cackling at the eldest Winchester's words. His blood stained blonde hair shone in the subdued light, as he glanced back to Dean.

"You don't have the slightest idea _what_ we're going to do with him." the demon said grinning wickedly.

That's the thing the demons and angels didn't understand, if they harmed of even threatened to hurt Sam they were dead.

It wouldn't always be immediate, but one way or another they always got what was coming to them.

Not his kid. _Never._

He glanced at Sam's inert form, panic threatened to consume Dean.

Stacks of wooden boxes blocked his view of Sam, not allowing him to see if the kid was breathing or not.

His brother's still form worried Dean, as he hoped Sam would awaken and signal to Dean that he was alright.

Sam was still, too fucking still for Dean's liking.

"Boss told me that he was off limits, the youngest Winchester was for him." the demon grunted, interrupting Dean's frayed thoughts.

Dean began to tug at the ropes binding him, painfully slow.

"And why would your boss gives a rats ass about Sam?" Dean said challengingly.

"The boss has many reasons for what he wants. And it doesn't matter. Boss said our little _Sammy_ was going to get what he deserved." the demon sneered, and came over to sit on his knees his face inches from Dean's.

Dean flinched at the demon's casual use of the nickname that was reserved only for him.

But he couldn't help it, Dean hated the way Sam's name fell off the demon's lips.

The demon smiled at Dean's reaction, pleased by his obvious discomfort.

He stared at Dean almost daring him to challenge his declaration.

Dean held the demon's glare, tugging at the ropes behind even more slowly now.

"And what about the brains of this operation? Obviously someone's pulling the strings, and it sure as hell ain't you." Dean jeered at the demon, an almost comical look on his own face.

If there was any way to get a demon to give up secrets, it was by making them talk.

"He goes my many names; A real big shot in hell, actually." it retorted through a stiff lip.

"I hold a very high position. One of the boss' most trusted." the demon said, his black eyes flitting briefly to a pale grey.

"Oh really? If he's such a big shot, why's he got the likes of you doing his dirty work? I mean let's be honest, you couldn't have been his first pick."

"This is what you do, isn't it?" the demon drawled slowly, scrutinizing Dean's face.

"You poke, and you prod. Until you get one of us to spill our guts to you?" it chuckled, shaking it's head.

"I'm disappointed to be honest. The illustrious Dean Winchester, _so_ predictable." it said in an almost sing song voice, the demon's words echoing against the walls of the warehouse.

"You don't live up to the name." it challenged, shaking it's head at Dean.

"I mean your big news, everywhere. Heaven, Hell, even _Purgatory_. I get out of hell and this is what I return to? Give me a break."

"You and that brother of yours. _The Winchester Epic_, you're the story monsters tell their children at night." he growled, his eyes flitting back to their normal black.

That was the thing, Dean already knew he was worthless. He didn't need some piss poor demon to lay it all out for him.

"Well I'm flattered." Dean said, flashing his best _eat shit_ grin.

"Don't be." the demon said flatly, immediately unamused. "Soon all supernatural creatures will forget the name Winchester."

"We're ripping up the beginning of the book, and writing a new chapter. "

"So what's your endgame? What do you _want?_" Dean said his lip curling, as he met the demons gaze once more.

"So...many...things, Dean Winchester. But when it does happen, you'll never see it coming." the demon purred, his grey eyes practically glowing with elation.

"Bite me." Dean said slowly allowing the sass to drip into his tone.

The demon lunged forward punching Dean square in the Jaw.

"Don't tempt me, Dean. I've got tons of other demons who would love to sink their teeth into you." the demon said, clicking his tongue.

Dean blacked out for a moment as he tried to gain his bearings. His world tipped in front of him, as his visions blurred slightly.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing in his ears.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean said bitingly, tasting the copper taste blood in his mouth.

"The name's Alastor, the avenging Knight of Hell." Alastor said cockily with a vicious grin plastered across his face.

A Knight? Wasn't Abaddon the only knight that had survived Cain's massacre?

Dean couldn't help the shock that flickered across his face.

"So what's a piss poor Knight doing taking orders from a lesser demon?"

The demon frowned at Dean's words.

"Watch it Winchester. Just because the boss ordered hands off Sam, doesn't mean I can't have a little fun." the demon threatened an almost elated tone to his voice.

He waved his knife in front of Dean's face, gesturing towards Sam. "After all, the best torturers never get their hands dirty."

He stood up, making his way over to Sam.

"You leave him, the hell, alone." Dean nearly snarled.

The demon scoffed audibly, ignoring Dean's blatant threats.

The demon extended his arm flicking the stack of crates aside with a flick of his wrist.

Dean's heart nearly stuttered to a stop as looked over at his little brother.

Sam was completely still as he lay there in a haphazard heap, his arms splayed at awkward angles.

One of his arms looked twisted, as though it shouldn't be able to bend in that direction. Blood ran down the side of Sam's face his head angled towards Dean.

"If you touch him, I'll _kill_ you!" Dean shouted, his expression almost animalistic.

He had finally cut the ropes free which bound his hands. From this point on it was all about opportunity, and how to lure the demon away from Sam.

He hated how close Alastor was to Sam, and he be damned it he let him hurt his little brother.

"You know you're going about this the wrong way. I mean you have the perfect opportunity." Dean said quickly, trying to keep his poker face.

Alastor's head tilted in Dean's direction, his gaze breaking away from Sam.

"And what's that?" Alastor said, his blonde hair flopping into his face.

"You could run this operation entirely by yourself, if you wanted. But instead you let the head honcho call the shots. I mean how pathetic is that?" Dean laughed tauntingly, shaking his head at the demon.

Alastor frowned, his expression suddenly becoming enraged. He sauntered over to Dean, yanking him upwards by the collar.

"Do you know who I am?" Alastor barked enunciating the last few words.

Dean's gaze darkened as he met the demons black eyes.

"Dead man walking." Dean snarled, and leaned forward ripping his way from his bindings.

He pushed Alastor down, nearly tempted to rip out the demon's throat. But that wouldn't do anything it would only royally piss Alastor off.

Alastor was fast, but Dean was faster, and the mark gave him an edge over most supernatural creatures.

The mark gave him clarity; _calm_ even.

This was the high he craved, the kind he relished. There was no shame, fear, or anxiety. Just unadulterated power, and he couldn't get enough.

The demon twisted Dean's wrist, trying to get him to drop the blade.

Dean pushed back exerting himself more than he thought was possible The demon was just as powerful, if not more and he knew it too.

Dean kicked the demon's feet out from underneath him, pinning him by the throat.

"Who are you working with?" Dean spat, holding the demon back with all of his weight.

The demon laughed a sort of rattling choked laugh, since Dean was cutting off his air supply.

"I tell you, I won't _die_." the demon gasped, the cool metal of the angel blade pressed tightly against its throat.

The demon fidgeted underneath the compression of Dean's weight on his chest.

"I _don't_ tell you, I still won't die." Alastor spat, his bloodied teeth set in a wide grin.

"Either way right now you can't hurt me Dean Winchester." Alastor grinned, his face stained with his meatsuits blood.

Ultimately the demon was right. If he really was a Knight like he said he was, Dean couldn't do a damn thing until he had the First Blade.

Didn't matter. Dean wanted to _hurt_ this demon, and the knife could do just that.

"Good point." Dean snarled, pulling the demon knife back and brought it down sinking it into the demon's chest.

But it was too late, the demon's head reared back, black smoke spewing from the kids mouth.

He didn't even feel sorry about the kid's body the demon had ridden out.

All he could think about was what the demon said about Sam, his kid. Fury reigned through Dean as he remembered the demon's previous words.

The mark burned savagely on Dean's arm, egging him on further. _Finish him._

His fists clenched at his sides, and suddenly he brought his fist forward until it connected with the kids face.

Over and over Dean punched the host body, his hand covered in the kid's blood.

_Ah yes._ The pure raw energy he had grown so familiar to, greeted him like an old friend.

It coursed through his veins, burning it ways outwards in a tantalizing surge of refined power.

Through the red haze in his mind, Dean's resolve suddenly faltered as he remembered where he was. And who was still with him.

_Sam. _

_Where the hell was he?_

**_TBC_**


End file.
